I Desperately Need You
by chalantness
Summary: Sometimes things need to get worse before they can get better. But, with him, she knows she won't be walking this road to recovery alone.


**Warnings.** Pretty dark in the beginning, but it's mainly in the beginning, I promise. So, I guess—read at your own risk?

**Characters/Pairings.** FinnSantana (mainly Santana-centric) with PuckRachel, MikeTina, ArtieQuinn, MattBrittany, and Mercedes and Kurt thrown in because they're awesome (:

Disclaimer: Glee © Fox/Ryan Murphy

* * *

**I Desperately Need You**

By sakuracherish814

* * *

Santana Lopez has experienced some scary things in this world.

But she knows, hours later as she is curled into herself and staining her bed sheets with her tears, that nothing will _ever_ come close to this.

She should've known something was up—she shouldn't have been so stupid. The car had been in the driveway, but the lights had not been on. She hadn't expected a hand to grasp her in the darkness as soon as she stepped foot in the house. She hadn't expected to see her mother, one of the strongest people she knows, in tears and sprawled out across their couch.

She hadn't expected a voice to whisper in her ear, stuffy and warm and smelling of alcohol, "So beautiful."

She struggled, of course. Santana Lopez would not go down without a fight.

The only problem was, this time, she hadn't won it.

"Behave like the slut I know you are or else your mother gets it," the deep voice had whispered again. Then, with a tone so wicked that she begins to shake, "_Again._"

She looked to her mother, but quickly wished she hadn't. Her mother was worn down, defeated. It scared her.

Then again, it was _supposed_ to.

So she nodded weakly and allowed the man to lead her through the dark house, up the staircase, and into her own bedroom. (Even in the dark, she recognized that path she walked every day of her life since she was five.)

"Don't worry, sweetie," he tells her as he lays her down on her bed, "I'll be gentle—just like a lover."

No kind of love was this cruel. But she knows better than to say anything.

So she fights against the scream in the back of her throat as his fingers caress her stomach, her thighs, her breasts, removing each article of clothing little by little at an agonizingly slow rate that she wonders what the true torture was: getting it over with or having to endure it.

Enduring it, she quickly decides as his fingers expertly apply the right amounts of pressure to make her squirm, was the true torture for her.

_Please. Please just stop it._

* * *

"Santana, is that a bruise?" Brittany asks as she squints at the faint purple coloring along Santana's side.

Santana feels her heart drop. She resists the urge to shudder as a chilling sensation overcomes her, and quickly pulls down her Cheerios top to hide her exposed skin. "Don't be ridiculous, Brittany," she tells the blonde evenly, aware of (but trying hard to ignore) the fact that more than half of the Cheerios in the locker room were now looking at her. "Your eyes are seeing things."

"Like that time I thought I saw a bird in my locker?" Brittany asks.

"Brittany," another Cheerio reminds gently, "there _was_ a bird in your locker—you _kept_ it there."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did, and they sent you to—you know what. Never mind."

The rest of the locker room returns to their business of changing into their second uniform and reapplying their makeup. No one notices how Santana slowly exhales, as if she'd just avoided being caught red-handed. Or how her movements are slightly stiffer than usual, as if she were expecting (or dreading) something.

So, of course, no one says anything.

* * *

Sometimes Santana wondered what it would be like if she were raised differently. If she was liked enough to have _real_ friends who would notice something was wrong just because they cared that much and won't stop until the truth comes out. Or, if she simply trusted herself enough to trust in them to confide in—to confess everything.

But this was not the world she lived in. Nothing like that would ever happen to the ice queen herself.

* * *

"Is everything alright, Santana?"

Even though it's Rachel, her sudden outburst surprises Santana, and it is completely silent with the girls. Nothing but the sound of the pianist and Mr. Schue's rhythmic counting as he is introducing the choreography to the boys can be heard until, finally, Santana casually clears her throat and asks dismissively, "What are you going on about, Berry?"

"Santana," Rachel says slowly and gently but in a voice that tells her that there was no fooling her, "something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," she snaps, more forcefully than she'd intended.

She expects Rachel to look hurt. She expects her eyes to water. She expects everyone to jump to Rachel's defense and scold her for being harsh.

But they look just as sternly convinced as Rachel.

And, that alone, is enough to make her feel the tears come on. So when she's crying seconds later, face huddled against Rachel's shoulder, it's not because she remembers how awful that night had been or how she'll _never _be able to get over it.

It's because they _cared_.

* * *

She doesn't tell them the details—or anything, really—of that night. But they know that something happened; something dark and something wicked.

So they never leave her out of their sight. They never go a second without at least one of them giving her their full attention.

Someone is always walking to and from classes with her.

They all eat lunch with her, even if she doesn't actually _eat_. (This only lasts a week or so because her friends were so paranoid that there may be more problems so she practically shoves a bag of chips down her throat to calm them.)

She alternates sleeping over at Rachel's and Brittany's until Rachel's dads declare that enough is enough and practically unpack her bags for her, moving her into their guest bedroom themselves. This, of course, elicits amused chuckles from her and Rachel as they sit on the bottom step of the staircase and watch them run around the room, placing her things. It felt strange.

A _good_ strange.

* * *

She gets slushied.

In the back of her mind, even _before_ that night she hoped to forget, she knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Cheerio or not, she was in glee, and that fact alone made her eligible for a slushie facial. But she also knew that, if and when it would someday happen, she wouldn't just take it lying down. Someone _would_ pay.

She just expected it would be _her_ to deliver the revenge—not everyone else.

Finn throws the first punch, which is soon accompanied by Puck, Matt, and Mike. Even Mercedes jumps in for a couple of swings. Kurt and Artie don't actually _hit_ any of them, but they have a few good choice words that, had the situation not been so sudden and kind of frightening, she was sure she'd be doubled over on the floor in laughter. Especially Kurt. (Yup. Kurt was _that_ priceless.)

They pull her into the girls' bathroom as soon as the stinging becomes too much and Rachel expertly cleans every last drop of it off.

"Thanks, Rach," Santana says quietly, and she watches as Rachel's expressions shift from stunned to slightly flustered to positively beaming.

"No problem, Santana," Rachel reassures. "You are one of us now—_have_ _been_ one of us."

Quinn returns from her locker moments later and hands some clothes to her. "You're about my size so these should fit."

"And my mom is an expert at getting any stains out," Tina adds, "so your Cheerios uniform will be as good as new. Sue Sylvester won't even know the difference."

Brittany smiles and kisses her best friend's forehead. "It'll be okay."

* * *

They postpone that afternoon's glee rehearsals to tend to the guys because, while they may have beaten Karofsky and the rest of those idiots jocks to a pulp, they also suffered some damage of their own. Mr. Schue is not exactly pleased that they'd gotten involved in the fight, but it was for Santana—it was _them_ sticking up for _each other_—so, of course, how could he be mad?

"You're proud of me," Puck tells Rachel as she sits herself atop his lap and gingerly dabs at the spots of drying blood with a damp towel.

"Proud?" Rachel asks. Well, nearly yells. "Look at you! You had me worried sick the entire time!"

"It's only natural," he tells her, "that people want to take a few swings at Puckzilla."

Rachel mutters something under her breath that makes Puck laugh, which eventually makes her laugh, and they kiss tenderly (since he _did_ receive a blow to the jaw).

Brittany comes back from the bathroom with a damp towel and, as she reaches Matt, wrings some of it over his face.

"What was that for?" Matt asks.

"For making me worry," she huffs childishly.

Matt chuckles as she places herself atop his lap, and he places a hand on her leg. "I'm sorry, babe."

"You better be." But her tough act doesn't last very long as Matt stares up at her and she finally relents and kisses him.

Tina is positively pale as she is wrapping Mike's cut arm (it had gotten scraped against the lockers during the fight) in bandaging, and does Mike feel guilty because his participation frightened his girlfriend half to death? Of course he did. _Immensely_ so.

As she finishes, she looks up into his eyes, and that single connection seemed to have as much burning intensity as any of Puck and Rachel's kisses.

He presses his forehead lightly to hers and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," he tells her.

She shakes her head gently. "It's okay."

They don't kiss—well, not right away, at least—but the moment seems so private that Santana felt invasive just looking at them.

So she turns her attention back to icing the big idiot's bruise.

"I'm glad you're okay," Finn tells her after a few moments of silence between them.

A faint smile. "I only wish I could say the same for you, big guy."

"I just got so _mad_," Finn insists. He seems to be recalling the moment of her first slush in his head because his jaw locks. She applies slight pressure to the bruise, which makes him flinch, quickly ridding him of the memory. "S-Sorry…" he mutters as soon as she releases the pressure.

"You really are an idiot, you know," she tells him.

He sighs. "I know."

She contemplates leaving him at that, but some urge of not wanting to see him so down prompts her to add, "Thanks."

He looks as stunned about her words as she feels. But, he smiles, and her breath catches slightly.

"No problem."

* * *

He asks her out.

Well, technically speaking, he offers to take her out to eat claiming it's because Puck and Rachel have a date and he doesn't want her to be alone at the house (well, she _would_ have Rachel's fathers, but Finn wasn't entirely reassured they were the best bodyguards if something were to happen).

She surprises herself by saying yes and actually feeling—oh, what's the word?—_excited_ for it.

Rachel drives them home, as usual, and the two girls spend the entire time between hers and Santana's rooms as they ready themselves.

Then Puck and Finn surprise them by announcing it's a double-date at The Breadsticks.

(Rachel, of course, is ecstatic. Santana isn't sure what she feels, but somewhere between _happy_ and _euphoric_ might be a good start.)

* * *

They're there for two hours.

It was mainly because the restaurant was _packed_, it being Friday night and all, but this doesn't seem to bother the two couples. They probably didn't even notice the long wait between courses because they haven't stopped talking or laughing since being seated. (They have a booth, with Puck and Rachel on one side and her and Finn on the other.)

Somewhere between receiving their drinks and getting their appetizers, his hand accidentally brushes against her bare leg, and his face is flushed.

Puck and Rachel are too busy with each other to notice as Santana flashes a rather seductive smile up at him and trails her fingers from his knee up his thigh and—

"Finn," Rachel says suddenly and Santana smirks as she retracts her fingers, "are you okay? You look feverish."

"Y-Yeah, I-I'm fine," Finn stammers and grabs his iced water.

As he's chugging it down, Santana's eyes meet with Puck's, and because Puck _knows_ her like a sister, he smirks back at her and mouths, 'Atta girl.'

She laughs.

* * *

When they leave the restaurant around midnight, she and Finn are walking a few steps behind Puck and Rachel, who have their arms around each other. She feels Finn's warm hand place itself on the small of her back, his touch so light and feathery that it sends a tingly sensation through her. But, unlike that night, she doesn't feel repulsed.

As he leans in and whispers to her, his breath warm against her ear and neck, "So beautiful," she can't help but notice that he doesn't smell of alcohol, and that he _means_ it.

And she thinks that maybe—_just maybe_—she's finally beginning to move on.

* * *

Double-dates become a sort of trend with them, so much so that when she points it out, they burst into laughter because it's _so true_.

After a few more double-dates with Puck and Rachel, they catch a few movies with Matt and Brittany, and then hit a few cafés with Mike and Tina, and then go on a couple of shopping trips with Kurt and Mercedes, and go to a few parks and beaches with Artie and Quinn.

But, for her birthday, he asks her out.

"I want our first date to be extra-special," he tells her.

"This won't be our first date," she reminds as if it should've been obvious.

He shrugs. "To me it is, because this is the first time it'll be just the two of us, and I'm kind of excited."

She was kind of excited, too.

* * *

It's been months since the incident, several weeks since her birthday date with Finn, yet she doesn't know what comes over her.

It would probably be the dumbest decision she'll ever make.

She goes back.

* * *

Horrible things happen to horrible people. But sometimes, horrible people get away with doing horrible things.

Twice.

* * *

She wakes up staring at a white ceiling.

Hospital—she's in a hospital.

As she slowly sits herself up, everything is sore, and she is reminded of _why_ everything hurts as vivid images of that night flash through her mind like a horror film or a nightmare.

The figure beside her startles her, and it takes all of her might not to cry out. But her panic quickly dissolves as she realizes who it is: Finn. He was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair, his head against the edge of the bed, looking like he hadn't had a good, comfortable sleep in awhile.

She gently combs her fingers through his hair and leans down to kiss his forehead.

He stirs, eyes fluttering open until he's fully awake. He looks up at her and, as soon as he realizes she's really awake, he sits up a little too quickly.

"Whoa," he murmurs, holding his temple from the wave of vertigo that overcame.

"Calm down," she reassures. "Everything's okay—I'm fine."

He hugs her. He wraps his arms around his slim figure and holds her as close but as gingerly as possible. She feels something wet against her neck, right about where his eyes should've been.

And she cries, too.

* * *

Everyone visits her, even Rachel's dads and Mr. Schue and her mother. (Her mother had been staying at a friend's since that night, and though Santana kept in contact with her through phone calls and texts and emails, seeing her mother in person made it seem like it's been years since she's been in her mother's arms. It certainly feels that way.)

As soon as she's discharged, she is bedridden for two weeks, and her room at Rachel's is filled with gift baskets and presents and flowers.

It's a bit suffocating, but Santana loves it.

* * *

Her first day back to school, Principal Figgins strongly suggests that she have a few counseling sessions with Ms. Pillsbury. (She has a feeling Mr. Schue is behind this.)

She doesn't want to. It's not in any offense to Mr. Pillsbury, but growing up with her mom had taught her to disregard therapy and counseling as unnecessary and a waste of time. Let's just say old habits die hard. _Really_ hard—it takes everyone nearly shoving her through that door to make her go.

She caves.

She spends third and fourth periods and a few minutes of lunch in that office, just talking with her.

It does feel good to get things off of her chest, but she truly feels relieved when she walks out and finds Finn waiting for her.

"How was it?" he asks after he places a kiss on her cheek.

She shrugs. (Of course her pride will not let her verbally admit defeat. That's just her.)

"So, is everything okay?" he asks hesitantly, cautiously.

She contemplates this.

"Not now," she offers, because it's true. He and her other friends and her family will be there to help her through it, she knows this. But it will take time. Things like this won't happen over night.

But when she sees the panic flash across his face, she smiles at him and takes his hand, squeezing it. "But it will be. I promise."

* * *

She meets his mom.

He feels that it's only fair since _he's_ already met _her_ mom.

Was she nervous at first? Yes and no. She didn't necessarily make the best first impressions, but Finn was convinced that his mom would adore her.

(He was right.)

They spend the entire visit bonding over board games and sitcoms and karaoke. They eat dinner and dessert and get a few laughs exchanging wild family stories. Much to Finn's relief, they spare him the activity of looking through his childhood albums. ("We'll save that for next time, sweetie," Mrs. Hudson whispers to her, winking.)

He drops Santana back at Rachel's by 10:30pm since that was the prescribed you-need-to-be-at-home-or-else-we'll-freak-out-and-call-the-cops curfew by Rachel's fathers.

"Goodnight," he tells her and, because Mr. and Mr. Berry are watching from the window despite Rachel trying to block their views, he leaves her with a hug and the quickest of kisses upon her lips.

* * *

"So," Mike prompts as he, Matt, Puck, and Artie are over at his house a few days later, playing the 360 while the girls (and Kurt) are shopping. "You and Santana…"

"You two are getting pretty serious, huh?" Artie asks.

Finn doesn't know exactly how to respond. At first, he contemplates denying it, but what's the point? It was obvious. (Especially since there's a framed picture of him and Santana hanging right on the wall in the room; placed by his mom, he claims, though the others are entirely unconvinced.)

"Yeah," Finn admits with that big goofy smile on his face. "I really like her. I…I think she could be the one."

Puck pats his best friend's shoulder proudly. "About time!"

"I'm happy for you, man," Matt says.

He's kind of happy for himself, too.

* * *

"I love you."

The words come out easily, effortlessly. They were sitting together on top of his bed, not paying attention to what was on the television. His mother is gone for the night, and Rachel and her fathers were going to be gone as well visiting relatives a few cities over, so she's crashing at his place.

Her breath catches and she looks up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And suddenly she ravishes his lips, and they're in the midst of a sensual kiss, their hands trailing over each other's bodies in a tingly sensation that felt like frost eating the flames.

When they pull apart, she ends up on top of him, straddling his lap, with his hands at her hips and her fingers combed into his hair.

She presses their foreheads together, the both of them panting slightly.

"I love you too."

* * *

She and Rachel had been sitting on top of her bed with the laptop beside them webcamming with Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, and Kurt (leaving Kurt out of any business they label as "girl stuff" to the guys is pretty much a criminal offense, or so Kurt had claimed the one and only time he'd been left out) when she told them the news a few days later.

The chorus of squeals that follow is deafening.

Rachel pulls her into a bone-crushing hug and refuses to let go until Santana wrenches herself free.

"_And?_" Quinn prompts because, even over a webcam, she can see it in the girl's face that Santana obviously has more news to share.

"He asked me to move in with him."

* * *

The sun's beating down, and they're all over at the Fabray household after Mrs. Fabray graciously offers them the space (and the pool) for a spring bash. So they're all outside, grilling and eating and laughing, jumping in and out of the pool. The girls had attempted to tan until the guys stormed out with buckets of water balloons and fully loaded water guns, and it was game on.

Once they had exhausted their war, they set aside the toys and stopped for lunch.

Santana left for a quick bathroom break and, when she returned, she couldn't help but pause and admire the scene before her.

They looked like one, big happy family.

Brittany and Matt were sitting in the hot tub, their arms around each other, just talking.

Mike and Tina were sitting in the pool on the steps, Mike's arm draped around Tina's shoulder as they were laughing quietly to themselves.

Mr. Schue was grilling and talking with Ms. Pillsbury and Mrs. Fabray, the three adults looking totally relaxed.

Quinn sat atop Artie's lap as he, Mercedes, and Kurt were at one of the tables, laughing and eating some of the corn on the cob Mr. Schue had just grilled.

And Puck was resting in one of the lounge chairs, Rachel curled into his side, as they were talking with Finn, who sat in his own chair beside them. Santana smiles and walks over to join them, placing a kiss on Finn's cheek as she settles herself on his lap. "Hey you."

"Hey," he says softly.

"You look a little lonely," she says.

A smirk. "Not anymore."

Santana's eyes leave his and land on Rachel, and Rachel smiles a knowing smile.

She trails her fingers up Puck's bare arm, making him shudder delicately, and slowly eases herself out of the chair. "Let's swim."

He looks at her and then smirks, answering, "Of course, babe." And Rachel barely has time react before Puck is scooping her into his arms and tossing her into the deep end of the pool. He gives Finn and Santana a two-fingered salute before diving after her.

Finn laughs and then rests his hand in Santana's lap, the smallest traces of worry in his eyes. "You okay?"

She smiles at him and presses their lips together.

"Way beyond okay."

* * *

Santana is sitting in her room, book in her lap, not really studying for the final exams like she's supposed to. Instead, she's remembering something her mother told her some time beforehand. Looking back, her mother was absolutely right.

_Sometimes things need to get worse before they can get better._

* * *

She moves in with him.

* * *

**A/n.** Yeah…I have _no_ idea where this ficlet came from. I just really wanted to write a Finn/Santana.

I wasn't entirely sure how to go about rating it. I know the beginning is pretty dark and suggestive, but it doesn't ever get to that point again, so 'll let you guys be the judge. If you guys disagree with the rating, let me know and I'll change it. (:

(Sorry if the title doesn't entirely fit—I was listening to "Meteor Shower" by Owl City when I was trying to think of a title.)

_So you read it! Love it? Hate it? Please review it!_


End file.
